Afterwards the place became “tapu” (sacred, forbidden, prohibited). Consequently any unwary and unsuspecting stranger who, happening along, chanced to lean against the tree or tread on the rocks became himself “tapu” (meaning, in this connection, accursed, unclean), and was hunted from the tribe as a social leper and outcast. Like Cain, every man’s hand was against him, though it was forbidden to kill him; and unless he was a man of mark and could get the “tohunga” (priest) to “lift the ‘tapu’ off him” he speedily succumbed to a general sense of misery and superstitious bedevilment. It is not my intention to attempt an explanation of the working of the “tapu” law. That has already been done by far abler pens than mine. My own opinion is that no one ever did properly understand it--not even the Maoris themselves. In the beginning, probably, the thing was a decent and workable law enough, as laws go, but in the course of ages, what with amendments and addenda, it got beyond everything and was entirely indigestible by human intellect; finally becoming an incubus--a kind of religio-legal nightmare from which they couldn’t wake up. I only know that any place, person, or thing could become “tapu.” Food, fire, air, and water were not free from it. Man, woman, and child were subject to it. For any trivial cause and without his knowledge a man might be made “tapu.” Sometimes it was partial, affecting only the feet or hands, and on these occasions a man could put a “tapu” on himself by walking about or scratching his own head! Anyhow, if you got a bad dose of it, things became pretty uncomfortable. White men could generally escape by affecting to ignore the thing and taking ship for another country. Unfortunately, as the reader will perceive, circumstances prevented my adoption of this course. At the time I am telling of I was superintending their northern trading station at Te Mata for Messrs. Franks, Backhouse, and Co., a big Auckland firm. Puketawa--whom I have mentioned in previous WIDE WORLD contributions--a native of the South Island, educated at a mission school, was by way of being my servant and store-help. Having lived much with Europeans, and being ridiculously proud of the little the mission school had taught him, he affected to despise the Maoris of the neighbourhood. “Ignorant savages,” he called them, and stood aloof in the light of superior wisdom. At times he even permitted himself a mild remonstrance at what he considered my undue intimacy with the heathen. Education had made Puketawa a bit of a snob; but, for all that, he was a very good fellow. The store, residence, and outbuildings stood on the shore of the tidal estuary of the Mangapai River. Over a low range of hills running parallel with the coast, at a distance of about half a mile, was the Maori “kainga” (village), having a population of about nine hundred souls.